Out of the Shadow
by AmethystPhoenix1
Summary: Al, hoping to distinguish himself from his father, enters his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and befriends the most unexpected group of people. Meanwhile, the wizarding world enters a new era of political turmoil. DH compliant.
1. The Sorting

**Author's Note: **Luckily, that which I feared the most (either Harry, Ron, or Hermione dying) did not happen in Deathly Hallows. In fact, JKR gave us a whole new cast of characters to play with. I've wanted to write a post-Hogwarts fic for a while, so here's the beginning of the result -- I am at work at the second chapter, and hopefully, that will be finished soon as well. Anyway, I wanted to be one of the first people to post a next-gen fic on this site, heh. This one will switch between POVs of people at Hogwarts (probably Al[bus) and people outside (probably Harry or Lily). I've read the epilogue through a few times, so hopefully this gets all the canon there right.

Also, this has been updated (less than a week after it was written, grumble) with the new canon info from JKR's interview.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is not mine; I have only been alive a little longer than JKR took to write/plan the series.

* * *

**Chapter One: The Sorting**

"Cor, look at _him_!"

"He's enormous!"

Al and Rosie ignored the other first years, who were openly gaping at the giant figure of Hagrid in front of them, pushing past them to meet up with their parents' old friend. "Hello, Hagrid," said Al cheerfully. He had met Hagrid three times before – twice at birthday parties and once at a wedding.

"Hello, Al. Rosie." Hagrid beamed down at them. "Keep close to me now; I'm supposed to lead yeh to the boats."

James passed with his friends. He poked Al hard in the ribs. "Hey!" Al cried, scowling at his older brother.

"Ready to face the troll?" his brother replied, smirking.

Al felt his stomach sink as he remembered what James had been saying he would have to battle to be Sorted into a house. According to James, if you defeated the troll in a particularly impressive manner – which only the best students could do, naturally – you got into Gryffindor. If you defeated the troll in a clever way, you were a Ravenclaw, and if you defeated the troll through perseverance and determination, you were a Hufflepuff. If you screamed like a girl and ran away, James said, you became a Slytherin. Of course, there was the Sorting Hat, but James said that was just a formality, something to announce your house after your victory or retreat from the troll.

His parents had told him to ignore his brother, but Al wondered if they were just trying to make him feel better. He had no problem picturing both of them battling and winning over the troll. He was sure his dad had Stunned the troll on his own, without any help or trouble, and he could see his mother hexing the troll until it gave up.

To his relief, Al was saved from having to reply by his cousin Victoire, who was just passing by. Victoire was Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's daughter. She was a very pretty girl with reddish blonde hair, and she was this year's Head Girl. "Stop spouting nonsense, James," she snapped as she dragged a protesting James away. James's friends snickered and winked at Al before following.

"Don' worry," said Hagrid. "There's no troll. Jus' the Sorting Hat."

Al nodded glumly, his excitement over finally going to Hogwarts diminishing again. Somehow, that wasn't very comforting either. _The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account_, his dad had said. But he didn't want to choose in front of an enormous crowd of people, he had realized on the train ride to Hogwarts.

As soon as all the first years had huddled together on the platform behind Al and Rosie, Hagrid led them down a long path to the edge of a lake, where a fleet of boats waited. "Four to a boat," Hagrid informed them, before getting into his own boat. Al and Rosie clambered into a boat and were joined by the pale boy whose father Ron had pointed out at King's Cross and a skinny boy with horn-rimmed glasses.

"I've read so much about Hogwarts," said the boy with the glasses. "I can't believe we're finally here." The boats began to glide through the lake, and everyone in the boat gasped as Hogwarts came into view.

"No wonder Mum and Dad never took us here," said Rosie. "They wanted us to see it first like this."

"Are you twins?" asked the boy with glasses.

"No, he's my cousin," replied Rosie. Al was too queasy thinking about the Sorting to answer. "I'm Rose, by the way. Rosie, usually. And he's Al."

"Luke." He paused. "Are your parents wizards?"

"Yeah. My dad is an Auror. He plays reserve Keeper for the Cannons on the side for a while in his late teens, after the war, and he still likes to talk about it. My mum works for the Department of Law Enforcement. She's an expert on wizarding law."

"What about you?" Luke asked Al.

Al fidgeted. He didn't like talking about his parents, since everyone always wanted to know all about them and never about him when they found out. It was selfish, Al knew, since his parents had done great things, but he couldn't help it. "My dad works as an Auror too. My mum works at the WWN and writes a bit." He did not mention that his dad was head of the Auror Department or that his mother was co-host of _WizardChat_, a popular show, with Lee Jordan and the author of a best-selling series of books for modern witches.

"I've read about the Ministry of Magic," was Luke's reply. "Your dads work there, then? What's the WWN?"

"You're Muggle-born?" It was more of a statement than a question. To Rosie, who practically worshipped her aunt, anyone who didn't know what the WWN was had to be a Muggle or Muggle-born. Luke nodded. "WWN stands for 'Wizarding Wireless Network.' It's our radio system. Aunt Ginny is co-host of _WizardChat_, one of my favorite programs."

"You don't have television?"

"Television?" Rosie looked confused for a second. "Oh, you mean those things Muggles watch? Mum bought us one a while ago, but Dad, Hugo, and I don't understand a lot of what they're talking about. I like the wireless better."

Luke turned to the last boy in their boat. "Hello. What's your name?"

"Scorpius," said the boy, looking down at his shoes. He seemed to be even more afraid than Al was.

"That's a wicked name," said Luke. "I suppose your parents are wizards too?"

Scorpius merely nodded and did not offer any details. The boats reached the opposite shore, and the four of them got out, Luke and Rosie chatting merrily, Al and Scorpius trailing them silently. Hagrid led them up the steps of the castle, and then knocked three times on the giant oak doors.

"I've got them from here, Hagrid," said a friendly man's voice when the door opened. Neville – Professor Longbottom, Al corrected himself – stood there, smiling down at the first years. Hagrid waved and squeezed himself past them in order to join everyone else at the feast. Neville brought them into a small chamber to the side of the Great Hall. Al could hear voices through the wall as the rest of the school chattered and caught up with each other. Neville explained the house system and then told them, "In a moment, I will bring you into the Great Hall to be Sorted. Wait here," before going through the door at the end of the chamber.

"I hope I get Gryffindor," said Rosie. "Mum and Dad were both in Gryffindor."

"I like Ravenclaw," said Luke. "They sound like the most intelligent of the lot. No offense," he added quickly.

"None taken. They _are_ the most intelligent. Usually," said Rosie. "The Sorting Hat almost wanted to put my mum in Ravenclaw…"

Luke, it appeared, had read about the Sorting Hat, and the two set to discussing the history of the hat. Up until now, Rosie and Hermione had been the only two people Al had known that had read _Hogwarts, a History_, but Luke's revelation that he too had read it probably cemented his friendship with Rosie. Al felt slightly jealous that someone else had so quickly become friends with his best friend and cousin.

Several people gasped when a large group of pearly-white ghosts floated through the wall, talking amongst themselves. Some of the ghosts smiled reassuringly at the first years, and one, a fat friar, waved cheerfully at them. They passed through the opposite wall into the Great Hall.

A boy next to Al shivered. "I don't like ghosts much," he confided to him. He was good-looking, with dark skin the color of milk chocolate and slightly slanted eyes.

The door to the chamber opened, and Neville poked his head in. "They're ready for you," he announced, grinning as he opened the door wider. The first years streamed into the Great Hall, and Al knew he wasn't the only one feeling terribly nervous now.

He could feel everyone's eyes on him. James winked as Al found his face at the Gryffindor table, and despite his brother's teasing earlier, Al felt his nervousness abate a little. After all, his brother had gone through the same thing the year before. Everyone here had been Sorted.

The Sorting Hat sat incongruously on a three-legged stool in front of the house tables. There were no trolls in sight, and Al felt slightly better since he no longer needed to put on the hat _and_ battle a troll.

The students quieted. The hat opened its brim and began to sing:

_A thousand Sortings I have seen,_

_A thousand years I have lived._

_Your mind too I will glean,_

_Like the thousands before who have thus bid._

_Will you be a Gryffindor,_

_Brave, daring, from the heart?_

_Those qualities of yours will soar_

_If destiny wills a Gryffindor start._

_Will you be a Slytherin,_

_Ambitious, cunning to the core?_

_If hearing these, a bell within you ring_

_You will be led to a Slytherin door._

_Will you be a Ravenclaw,_

_Home of wit and learning?_

_Where books fill an entire hall_

_And where knowledge will sing._

_Will you be a Hufflepuff,_

_Loyal and true?_

_Your heart be made of sterner stuff_

_Than anything, through and through._

_So put me on,_

_Don't hesitate._

_I Sort all into their rightful place –_

_Let your story begin._

The students and teachers burst into applause before quieting when Neville ascended the platform. "When I call your name," he said, unrolling a scroll, "come up and put the hat on. Adelaide, Lawrence!"

Lawrence Adelaide was on the stool for about ten seconds before the hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW!" and one of the tables roared with applause. The first year made his way sheepishly toward them, his shoulders clearly free of worry now that the worst was over.

Al watched as others were Sorted, his stomach feeling tenser and tenser. Truthfully, he didn't feel like a Gryffindor. Although he looked a lot like his father, Al did not feel as if bravery was his greatest trait. Being daringly brave – like James – made him feel like he would be nothing more than a clone of his father, and that everyone would see him that way. He didn't want to live in his father's shadow, and he felt like he had a worse time of it than James, as everyone automatically recognized him, Al, as Harry Potter's son, since he was the only one to inherit his father's recognizable face. And yet… Rosie was going to be a Gryffindor. James was a Gryffindor. Everyone in his family was a Gryffindor, and Al didn't want to be different that much, did he?

"Harrods, Luke" became a Ravenclaw, as he had wanted. Luke made his way toward the Ravenclaw table, beaming. Al sank back into his whirling thoughts until Neville called, "Malfoy, Scorpius!" and several people began to whisper as Scorpius left Al's side. He looked rather green.

Scorpius sat on the stool for a full minute, getting greener and greener, until he looked like he would be sick. Finally, the hat cried, "HUFFLEPUFF!" Neville took the hat, looking slightly shaken, as Scorpius, wincing made his way to the shocked-looking Hufflepuffs.

"A Malfoy in Hufflepuff?" whispered Rosie to Al.

Al shrugged. His parents sometimes talked about Draco Malfoy, but never to Al. He had sounded important, but Harry and Ginny never told Al why. One day, Al and James, fed up with trying to worm information out of their parents, bribed the then sixteen-year-old Teddy to tell them. Teddy had told them that Malfoy wasn't really important, per se, but he and his parents had been Death Eaters during the war. According to Teddy, Draco Malfoy had realized during the war that being a Death Eater was not glamorous or exciting, like he had thought it would be, and that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had saved him twice during the Battle of Hogwarts. Teddy had also whispered that Narcissa Malfoy had, in a way, saved Harry's life in some way.

The Malfoys were historically a Dark family, Slytherin for generations, though Draco's wife, Lavender, was an old classmate of Al's parents and a former Gryffindor. Rosie knew a bit more about the family than Al, as Ron had a tendency to crow over old stories involving Malfoy and their school days.

"His dad's not going to be happy," said the boy next to Al.

"Why not?"

"My dad is a friend of Mr. Malfoy's. He says that Mr. Malfoy knew that Scorpius would end up in Hufflepuff, but that Mr. Malfoy thinks it's embarrassing."

"How awful." Al suddenly realized that his family would not see him differently even if he ended up a Slytherin. He glanced around at all the people he knew in the Great Hall. Flitwick, the headmaster, gave him a small smile. Rosie… Neville… James… Victoire… Lucy, Percy and Penelope's daughter… there was Uncle George, the Charms professor… Cho, one of his dad's friends and the Transfiguration professor… none of them would truly care if he ended up in a house other than Gryffindor. Well, Rosie would be disappointed, but Al knew she would accept it.

And with that thought, Al heard his own name. "Potter, Albus!"

The whispers started up again. Al saw James glaring at the people around him at the Gryffindor table, trying to make them stop whispering, before the hat dropped over his eyes. "Ah, so you're Albus Severus," said the hat. "Quite a name to live up to, though you know that, of course."

"My dad said they named me after two headmasters."

The hat chuckled. "Yes, they did. How ambitious. And how fitting. You are quite ambitious, I see. Not content to live in your father's shadow, of course, and his is a very big shadow. Ah, so he _did_ tell you I almost Sorted him into Slytherin. Yes, you two are very much alike; I can see how hard it will be for you to make your own way."

"Sir," said Al, feeling slightly foolish at addressing the hat like this, "do you think you could tell me where I really want to go? I don't really know myself…"

"Such knowledge is often elusive to your own self; that is true," agreed the hat. "But you have no qualms about what your family and friends might think?"

Al had the feeling the hat already knew what his father had said on the platform. "No," he replied. "I know they'll think of me the same way no matter where I go."

"Yes, Albus Severus Potter, you are a lucky boy, to have such people in your life." The hat paused. "It is a hard decision, to be honest. As the son of Harry Potter, you do possess that reckless bravery within you, though you may not believe it now. Your mind is good, and you are very loyal to your family and friends. Yet over all that, I see a desire to break free of your father's shadow…"

"— _then Slytherin house will have gained an excellent student, won't it?_" His father's voice rang in his mind.

"Yes, it will have," said the hat quietly. "So, Albus Severus Potter, you will go down the path of your second namesake. SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table applauded raucously, having won a celebrity's son. A few of them appeared to be doing so only because their neighbors were, but Al ignored them as he made his way to his new table, choosing instead to look at his family. Rosie looked confused and disappointed, but she smiled at him when she noticed his glance. James looked gobsmacked, but he was clapping anyway. Victoire was smiling to herself, as if she had known all along.

The euphoric feeling wore off slightly as the Sorting continued, and Al hoped that he had been right in his assumption that his family would see him the same way no matter what. Rosie went to the Gryffindor table, as expected. The last boy, the boy Al had been talking to in line, was finally called. "Zabini, Hayden!"

Hayden Zabini became a Slytherin as well. He took his seat next to Al. "You didn't say you were Harry Potter's son."

Al shrugged. Flitwick stood to give a speech, and the hall quieted. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he said, smiling at them cheerfully. "I hope you all had a good holiday, for there is much to learn this year. A few notices: Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has posted up another list of forbidden objects on his door. Also, Professor Chang has agreed to start a Wizards' Chess Club, which will meet this Friday for anyone who is interested. Finally, our flying instructor, Madam Hooch, felt it was time to retire, so I would like to welcome Mr. Oliver Wood, who retired from Puddlemere United last season, as our new instructor."

There was a roar of approval at the appointment of a professional Quidditch player as flying instructor. Several of the older Slytherins looked disappointed, as only first years took flying lessons.

"And now," said Flitwick, once the applause had died down, "it is time for the feast."

The table was suddenly laden with food. Al gazed hungrily at all of it; he had not realized how hungry he had been. He grabbed a little bit of everything before digging in with relish.

"So, Albus, right?" said Hayden Zabini in between mouthfuls of chicken.

"Yeah, but everyone calls me Al." It was time to make friends with someone other than Rosie, Al realized. Another thing he had not foreseen – he had been relying on Rosie to make friends with people so that he too could meet them. Rosie was good at picking out people who wouldn't be too in awe with Al's name to actually be friends.

"How boring," said Hayden. "At least be called 'Albus.'"

Al shook his head. "I dunno. It makes me sound like an old man. Maybe it's because my parents only knew him as headmaster of Hogwarts."

"What's your middle name, then? Maybe that's more exciting."

"Severus."

"After Severus Snape?" Snape's story, thanks in part to Al's father, had become legend. "He was a Slytherin. That's a much better name. I think I'll call you 'Sev,'" said Hayden, his eyes daring Al to argue.

Al shrugged. He didn't mind. After all, he was a Slytherin now, and it seemed oddly fitting that the Slytherins call him that. "Do you support a Quidditch team?" he asked.

"Yeah. Falmouth Falcons. You?"

"My uncles are all giant Cannons fans. But Dad and I support Puddlemere United. Dad's old friends with Oliver Wood."

Hayden looked impressed. "I bet Wood will favor you awfully in flying lessons."

"No, I don't think so. Dad says he's got a terrible suspicion of anything Slytherin, left from the days when they played Quidditch together in school."

"So what's it like, being Harry Potter's son?" At this, every head around them snapped up to listen.

"Erm, well…" Al said uncomfortably. This was undesirable territory. "It's not really that different, I suppose. Mum and Dad work like everyone else. When we were little, Dad's godson, Teddy, would baby-sit all of us. I've got an older brother, James, and a little sister, Lily."

"But… he's Harry Potter!" said a boy whose name, Al remembered from the Sorting, was Stephen Montague.

"Yes, but he's my _dad_," replied Al, slightly more testily than he had wanted. "I've gone on holiday with him and seen him gawking at everything he saw like every other tourist. He taught me how to fly. He and Mum argue like everyone else. He gets mad at James and me all the time, since we're always fighting."

Al found himself bombarded with questions throughout the rest of the meal, although Hayden informed him that he was lucky he was in Slytherin, as Slytherins weren't all as Potter-worshipping as other houses. The questions ranged from things Al was used to answering ("Isn't your mum co-host of _WizardChat_?") to the incredibly strange ("Does your dad put his left leg or his right leg through his trousers first?"). He answered them all as best he could, except for the trousers one, to which he replied with only a confused blink.

"All right, all right, settle down, and let the man eat his dinner in peace," said Hayden finally. He seemed to have appointed himself as Al's agent or something. The other Slytherins grumbled and moved away. "Sorry I started all that."

"It's all right. It happens everywhere."

"I suppose you're sick of it all." Hayden studied him for a moment. "You know, I always thought you would be really arrogant and a shoo-in for Gryffindor."

"Everyone does." Al found he didn't mind; Hayden was being honest.

"Dad doesn't like your dad much," Hayden admitted. "They weren't friends at school. Dad was actually friends with Draco Malfoy, who was your dad's rival at school. But you seem all right. And I mean, your dad beat _Voldemort_… He was the master of the Elder Wand, like in _The Tale of the Three Brothers_."

The puddings, tarts, cakes, and sweets all disappeared off the table, and everyone was standing to leave. "First years over here," said a tall, bored-looking prefect. Al and Hayden made their way toward him. They waited by the doors for the other first year Slytherins.

James clapped his hand on Al's shoulder as he passed. "I suppose you ran from the troll," he said, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

"Screaming like a girl," said Al, smirking back at him.

"You're happy, though, right? Got friends yet? I bet you ten Sickles that you don't."

"You owe him ten Sickles," piped Hayden. Al felt a pleased feeling in his chest. He had a _friend_. And not one that Rosie had found him.

James sighed theatrically. "Fine. I'll give them to you when we go home."

"What about the pocket money Mum gave you?" asked Al.

"Spent it at Uncle Percy and Uncle George's shop." After the death of Al's uncle Fred during the war, Percy, who had resigned from the Ministry, had joined George at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. They had run the shop together for ten years, George doing the majority of the inventing and Percy taking care of most of the paperwork, until George had accepted a job at Hogwarts. Now, during the year, Percy ran the shop and did some inventing of his own during the school year, while George pretended to have turned mature – though everyone knew he was still inventing – and they ran the shop together in the summer.

Al rolled his eyes. "Typical."

"Yeah, well, don't expect me to go easy on you, Slytherin, just because you're my baby sister's older brother."

"Why not just say 'brother?'"

"Because you're a Slytherin, so I can't _directly_ name you as my brother anymore." James smirked.

"Yeah… you're mad."

"Glad to hear it." James clapped him on the back again, then left the Great Hall.

"You don't look very much alike," said Hayden as the prefect led them out of the Great Hall and towards a flight of stairs that led downward.

"James looks like my mum's family. He's got my dad's build and his nose, and that's about it. I look a lot like my dad."

"What about your sister?"

"Same as James. Except Dad says she looks a bit like my grandmother on his side. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No," said Hayden. "I'm the only one."

"Lucky. They're fun sometimes, but it's not worth it. Though my mum grew up with six brothers, which must have been worse."

They stopped in front of a blank stone wall. "Lethifold," said the prefect, and the wall slid aside, revealing a common room. Everything was green-tinged, and Al realized they were underneath the lake. There were several skulls around the room.

"Yeah… Dad told me about the skulls," whispered Hayden, as it didn't feel proper to talk loudly in this common room. "They're completely fake. The Slytherins have a flair for the dramatic."

"Boys' dormitories are on your left. Girls to the corridor on your right," said the prefect. "I'm Joseph Nott, Slytherin prefect, by the way, if you require assistance." With that he left them, slipping an arm around a girl his age, who giggled.

"Come on, Sev," said Hayden, leading the first year boys down a dim corridor lined with torches in the shape of snake heads. They stopped at a door marked "First Year Boys." Hayden pushed it open, revealing a large, cavernous room. The ceiling was vaulted, and the windows were all very high. The room was lit by torches and the eerie green light coming in through the windows. Al could have sworn he saw a grindylow swim past.

He found his trunk next to a bed with green hangings. Hayden was next to him, and a boy called Louis Higgs was on Hayden's other side. Their other three dorm mates, Stephen Montague, Neil McLaggen, and Oliver Belby, were in beds across from them. All of the other boys shot Al covert looks as they unpacked.

Finally, Neil spoke. "I thought your name was Albus?"

"Yeah, but his middle name's so much cooler," replied Hayden, clearly pleased that he knew something the others didn't. "It's so much more Slytherin."

"So that's why you call him 'Sev?'" said Stephen.

"Yeah."

"Neil McLaggen, by the way," said Neil, shaking Al's hand. "Nice to meet you, Sev. My dad knows your uncle. They work in the same department at the Ministry. Magical Games and Sports."

"Oh. He doesn't really talk about your dad…" said Al. Everyone always expected him to know of someone they knew.

"They were in the same house at school, actually. My dad substituted for your uncle during one of the Gryffindor Quidditch games when your uncle was ill."

Al vaguely remembered Ron telling him the story of the one time he had been in the hospital wing during a Quidditch match. Harry had told him soon after to shut up, because that had been the same game that the acting Keeper had hit a bludger by accident at his head. Al decided not to mention this. Instead, he smiled and nodded.

"My dad knows your dad. Sat with him in the same compartment on the way to Hogwarts once," said Oliver, elbowing Neil aside. "They were both in Slughorn's Slug Club."

Al shook his hand but did not comment. His parents had mentioned Slughorn and his club once, and James was apparently a part of it, but his dad never mentioned someone called Belby.

"My dad played Seeker against yours in his seventh year. Still can't get over the fact that a first year beat him," said Louis, grinning. "I hope you're good at Quidditch, Potter, because I want Slytherin to win."

"That would be wicked if they let a first year onto the team," said Hayden.

The other boys began discussing Quidditch, and Al took the opportunity to write a letter to his parents and Lily. His stomach churned the entire time; he had no doubt his father would be supportive of his new house, but he worried about everyone else's reactions despite himself.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So... what do you think?

First off, I could not resist giving Blaise's son that name. "Hayden" is, I believe, a boys' name usually, but I know a girl of that name too. I toyed with "Morgan" for a while as well, but felt that in the wizarding world, "Morgan" would be too indicative of "Morgana." Also, I decided to make Scorpius a bit different from what we all think he is. I actually see him as a Slytherin, but writing him as a bit of a wet blanket was kind of fun. Same thing with Al... I've decided that the plot of this fic will not involve a Dark wizard, as we've all seen enough of those. I'll find something else to write about.

The Slytherin boys are quite friendly now, but not all is what it seems at the moment. My goal is to make the Slytherins human: not completely nice, but not evil, as they seem to be bordering in canon.

Please review!


	2. Reactions and First Classes

**Author's Notes:** Ah, the next chapter. It is currently around 1:30 in the morning EST, and I am wide awake. I don't want to be wide awake. It's all my university's fault for putting up housing results online and having a server that loves to crash. So I'm waiting it out, at least until some of the more rational people decide to go to bed. But you lot lucked out, because I decided to post this in the meantime.

Thanks to all that reviewed the last chapter; it was quite nice to get seven emails in a row, let me tell you.

Also, I have changed a couple of things in the last chapter to fit JKR's interview. Flitwick is now headmaster, and Ron is now an Auror. I refused to change anything after that, like Percy being in the Ministry and all, but they're all minor changes.

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own HP. Sorry.

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**Chapter Two: Reactions and First Classes**

_Dear Mum, Dad, and Lily,_

_I'm sure you're wondering what house I'm in. I thought about what you said, Dad, and then I told the Sorting Hat to choose a house for me, since I didn't know which house I wanted to be in, really. The hat said I was a good fit for all the houses, but in the end, it put me in Slytherin._

_I know everyone else in our family was or is in Gryffindor, but I'm happy in Slytherin. I've made a friend already. His name is Hayden Zabini, and he says that his dad wasn't your friend in school, but that he doesn't care. My other dorm mates are friendly too – they were asking all sorts of questions about you, Dad. _

_One of them, Louis Higgs, says that I should try out for the Quidditch team. I said that it would have to be on a school broom, since I couldn't bring my Firebolt 360 to school, but he said he reckoned I could do it anyway, since he had heard both of you, Mum and Dad, were really good at Quidditch at school._

_I met that boy Uncle Ron pointed out at the platform. Hayden says his dad will be angry he got into Hufflepuff. Do you think that's true?_

_Anyway, I should get to bed soon. We have our first lessons tomorrow, and I hope they're not too hard._

_Love,_

_Al_

_P.S. Please don't send a letter every day, Mum. It'll be embarrassing._

Harry Potter read the letter through again, relishing his younger son's words, before passing it to Ginny. So Al was in Slytherin, and it didn't seem like he was too bothered about it. He had wondered about his second son. Al wasn't as loud and boisterous as James, and he was the one most bothered by Harry's fame whenever they walked out the door as a family. Harry always got the feeling that Al wanted to be distinguished from his father, and he was glad.

Ginny gasped. "He wants to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team?"

"School brooms are bad, yeah. But I think Al can handle them. You don't have to worry about him being knocked off his broom."

"It's not that," said Ginny, smirking. "It's the fact that our son will be playing on the _Slytherin_ team."

They laughed. "Ron will consider that a base betrayal," agreed Harry.

"Not to mention what Oliver will say when he sees Al fly. Torn between distrust and awe."

There were footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later, Lily appeared. "Did they write to us?" Kreacher appeared, placing a plate of breakfast in front of her, then went back to cooking at the stove, humming to himself in his bullfrog voice.

"Did who write to us, Lily?" asked Harry, grinning.

Lily looked exasperated. "You know who, Daddy."

"No, I don't. Unless…" Harry pretended to guess. "No, Uncle Bill did not write a letter to us."

"Not _Uncle Bill_, Daddy. James and Al!"

"Oh," said Harry with mock surprise. "Well, you could have said so! As a matter of fact, yes, Al did send a letter."

Lily bounced up and down in excitement. "What did he say?"

"He says…" Ginny scanned the letter again. "Well, Al's in Slytherin. He's made some new friends, and he wants to try out for the Quidditch team."

"Can I see? Please?" Ginny handed her daughter the letter. "Mummy," said Lily as she read, "do I have to go to lessons with Aunt Hermione today?"

"Yes, you do."

"But Mummy, can't you just tell Aunt Hermione that I don't want to go because I'm depressed at the thought of my brothers being at Hogwarts without me?"

"It'll remain that way in two years if you don't go."

Harry looked at the clock. "Well," he said to a frowning Ginny and a scowling Lily, "I'm off. See you later." He kissed his wife and daughter on the cheek.

"Daddy, do I have to go today?"

Harry sighed and exchanged glances with Ginny. They had gone through this last year with both Al and Lily, when James had gone to school. "Well… I suppose…"

"Please?"

"No," said Harry, grinning at his daughter's cheer. Ginny rolled her eyes. He stepped outside as the two began to argue over instead whether or not Hugo could come to visit that day or not.

Mr. and Mrs. Abbott, their neighbors, were outside on their porch, enjoying the crisp autumn morning. Harry waved and exchanged greetings with them before Disapparating to the Ministry.

"Hello, Eric," he said to the guard in the Atrium. He approached the lifts, pulling a sheaf of parchment out of his cloak pocket. They were the case reports for the major cases finished in the past week, which Terry Boot, the deputy head of the Aurors, had handed him yesterday for review.

He entered a lift. Everyone on it greeted him, and he returned their greetings without looking up from his reports. "Harry!" said Arthur and Ron, catching up to him and getting on the lift before the doors closed.

"Oh, hello," said Harry, still slightly distracted.

"Well?" said Arthur eagerly. "How is Al?"

"Slytherin," said Harry, putting the reports away.

"_Slytherin_?" repeated Ron.

"Yeah. Anything wrong?"

Ron coughed. "No, nothing." He cleared his throat. "So, erm, did he write about Rosie?" he asked casually.

"Rosie didn't write?"

Arthur laughed. "Knowing Rosie, we can expect a novel in about a week. No doubt she's taking Hermione's words to heart and studying already."

"Well, Al didn't say anything, but based on that, I'm sure she's in Gryffindor." The lift stopped.

"Level two," announced a woman's voice as the doors slid open. "Department of Magical Law Enforcement—"

"You coming?" said Harry to Ron as he and Arthur got off the lift.

"Nah. I've got to meet with a couple of the blokes up at Magical Games and Sports; I'll see you at lunch."

The lift's doors closed, and a stocky wizard with a swarthy face approached Harry.

"Potter, Fletcher's gone and escaped his holding cell again…"

Harry sighed and turned to face Gregor, the head Hit-Wizard. Arthur murmured a goodbye and went into his own office. "Robards _said_ Aurors were not to be deployed after petty thieves like Dung Fletcher."

"Yes, but…"

"I'd bring it up with Robards if I were you."

Gregor sighed and left to go see the head of the Department of Law Enforcement.

Harry entered his office, his mind in the past. He had very little affection for Mundungus Fletcher, who he had tried to strangle once and who had run away while doing work for the Order, resulting in Mad-Eye Moody's death. He had to hand it to him, though: Dung had escaped his holding cell three times already after he had been released from Azkaban for petty crimes for the fourth time.

He sighed as he beheld his desk. His in-tray was filled with parchment.

* * *

The next morning, Al woke early and got dressed. When he came out of the bathroom, all of his dorm mates were still asleep. He attempted to wake Hayden but received a, "Hrmph, go 'way," as a response.

So he went up to the Great Hall alone, still smiling contentedly at the thought of his first lessons. He had resolved not to think of his family's reaction to his first letter, and so far, it was working.

He was one of the first people in the Great Hall. There were a few older Ravenclaws doing some last-minute pre-lesson studying and only one small figure at the Slytherin table. As Al neared, he realized it was Scorpius Malfoy. He wondered what a Hufflepuff was doing, sitting at the Slytherin table, but Scorpius did not look up as Al sat down across from him.

"Al!" Rosie appeared from behind him, holding a large book in her arms. "There you are. I've been wanting to see you."

Al smiled, his mouth full of toast. He swallowed. "Did you write to your parents yet?"

"No," said Rosie. "Didn't have time. I was studying." Al snorted, and she scowled. "It's not funny. If you don't study, you'll do poorly in all your classes."

"Or not. Seeing as most of us don't study as obsessively as you do, Rosie."

But Rosie ignored him. "Aren't you a Hufflepuff?" she asked Scorpius, who was watching their conversation with something that approached longing.

At her words, he started, then ran toward the Hufflepuff table, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"You made him run away."

"I didn't mean to." Rosie looked uncomfortable. "But you two weren't talking, and I was wondering what he was doing here."

"You're a Gryffindor," Al pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm talking to you. Oh, hello, Luke."

Luke Harrods grinned at both of them. "I thought I would be the only one up so early." He turned to Al. "You're Harry Potter's son?"

"Yeah."

"That's really cool. What's he like?"

"He's like Uncle Harry," said Rosie, sensing Al's discomfort. "Really nice and brave. Funny at times too. I'll see you later, Al," she added. The two of them left, leaving Al alone at the Slytherin table.

"Morning, Sev," said Hayden half an hour later, when he joined Al finally. He yawned. "Was that you trying to wake me up this morning? Because it's a futile effort, usually, unless if you're my mum."

Bit by bit, the Great Hall began to fill up with yawning students. Al finished his breakfast and sat on the bench watching others come in. Their Head of House, Professor Slughorn, appeared with the schedules.

"What do we have first?" asked Hayden, too busy stuffing his face to look at his own schedule.

"Double Charms with the Ravenclaws." Al wondered how that would go. He wasn't quite sure what to call George, though his mother had said that "Professor Weasley" would be best, since he didn't want to make it obvious that they were related.

"Right," said Hayden.

When Hayden had finished with his breakfast, he and Al decided to head toward class, since neither of them knew the castle well at all. Al told him about how Scorpius Malfoy had been sitting at the Slytherin table that morning on their way to the seventh floor.

"Weird," was Hayden's reply. "But not surprising. I met him a couple years ago at my dad's Christmas party. Thought he was a bit of a wet blanket. He didn't talk all night and stayed close to his mum the entire time. I heard from Neil that he burst into tears once, when Louis teased him too far. I'm not surprised he was sitting at the wrong table; probably forgot which one was his."

But Al thought that it had been something different that had caused Scorpius to sit at the wrong table.

"Hey! Al! Wait up," shouted a voice behind them. Al turned; it was Luke, panting and running toward them, his bag flying out behind him. "Hello," he said to Hayden upon reaching them. "Luke Harrods." He stuck out a hand.

Hayden took it warily. "Hayden Zabini."

"I'm glad we have this class together," said Luke to Al. "Rosie told me a lot about you." Al wondered fleetingly when she had been able to, then remembered that she had sat with Luke at breakfast. "I was looking forward to talking to you a bit."

"Are you a Muggle-born?" asked Hayden abruptly.

"Yeah. Why?" replied Luke, somewhat nervously.

"Nothing." Hayden had a strange look in his eye, and he remained silent for the rest of the way. Al got the feeling that he wasn't comfortable around Muggle-borns, as his parents were most likely against the idea of them.

"Did your mum really write _Confidence: The Secret to a Modern Witch's Success_? Because I bought my mum a copy at Flourish and Blott's this summer, and she liked it, even though there were parts she couldn't understand."

"Yeah, Mum wrote that."

"Wow."

Al felt distinctly uncomfortable. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"Oh." Luke grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Rosie warned me against acting like I am right now. Erm, well, my dad's a barrister. My mum is a doctor."

"Doctor?" Al had heard Harry use it once, but he couldn't remember when.

"You don't know? Don't wizards have doctors? You know, people who work at hospitals and in offices, and they keep you healthy?"

"Oh! Healers," said Al. "We call them Healers. Because they heal people."

"I suppose that makes sense," said Luke. "Anyway, Mum's a doctor. I've got two older brothers, but they're both much older. I was born after my parents sent Edward off to boarding school. Ed's twenty-three now and Patrick's twenty-six. Patrick's getting married in the spring. I'm the only one in my family to come here – my name was down for another school, but my parents and brothers are all really happy that I got in here, because they all reckon it's far more interesting than being a Muggle."

They reached the seventh floor. George stood outside of the classroom, greeting each of the anxious-looking first years that approached. "Go right in," he said, smiling. "Ah, Al! How are you?"

"Great, Uncle George."

George laughed. "Best call me 'Professor Weasley,' Mr. Potter. You don't want people to think I'll favor you. In fact, _because_ you're the offspring of the man who stole my sister, I'll be extra hard on you."

Al smiled at his uncle and entered the classroom. He sat down at an empty desk. Hayden and Luke took seats on either side of him. "He's your uncle?" hissed Hayden.

"My mum's older brother. He's co-owner of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes too. Don't worry. I think he'll be great. James says he's a good teacher, and that his first lesson is great."

"What does he do?" asked Luke. "I read our Charms text over the summer. I can't wait until we can try some of them out."

"I dunno. James wouldn't tell me."

"Is James your brother?" asked Luke.

Al nodded. "He's in Gryffindor, a year older than I am. I have a sister, too. Her name's Lily, and she's nine."

The two boys talked some more about their families. Hayden sat to the side, looking surly, and did not answer when Luke addressed him about his family, pretending to be engrossed in _Standard Book of Spells: Grade One_.

Suddenly, in the middle of Luke's explanation of what the internet was, there was a loud explosion. Several of the girls shrieked, and everyone looked around wildly for the source. A split second later, a dragon flew through the wall, roaring loudly. It took Al a moment to realize that it was in fact a firework. There was a second explosion, and another dragon, this one green as opposed to blue, came out of George's desk. The two dragons circled each other, battling. Sparks rained down on their heads but disappeared before they could light anyone on fire.

Al found himself cheering along with his classmates. He was supporting the green dragon, as the two dragons clearly represented the two houses present in the classroom. Luke watched them fight, awe apparent in his eyes. Even Hayden, who had been attempting to look bored, seemed impressed.

There was a third explosion, and a red dragon soared in through the open door, followed by George himself. The third dragon swallowed the other two easily, then, like the Ouroboros, devoured itself. Its jaws, the last part of the dragon remaining, hovered in the air for a moment before exploding in a shower of yellow sparks.

The class burst into applause, and George bowed, grinning at all of them. "That," he said, "is the combination of Muggle technology and several Charms." The students quieted, all of them eager to try and make their own fireworks. "I'm Professor Weasley," continued George. "Today, we won't be making fireworks like these" – there was a collective groan – "because they take years of study, unfortunately. Yeah, I never thought school was important either," he added, seeing their disappointed faces, "but at least you have this to look forward to.

"Anyway, today, we'll be learning a basic spell you'll be using your entire lives. The Hover Charm, which is often known by its incantation, _Wingardium Leviosa_. Page ten of your books ought to have the incantation and the diagram showing wand movement for the spell."

There was a loud rustle as everyone got out their books and turned to the correct page. "It's a swish and flick movement," said George. "And make sure you get all the syllables right. I remember my professor telling us about a bloke who ended up with a buffalo on his chest because he got an incantation wrong." Hayden snorted. "There are feathers in front of you. Three to a group, take turns trying the spell. It might not work the first time, so don't give up. _Wingardium Leviosa_."

Al, Hayden, and Luke peered at each other nervously. "I'll go first," said Luke finally. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." The feather remained obstinately on the desk. Luke deflated.

"Maybe you got the inflection wrong," said Al. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." The feather wriggled feebly, but did not rise.

"I think your flick wasn't determined enough," said Hayden, frowning at the feather. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." He jabbed his wand at the feather, then, frustrated, jabbed at it some more when it didn't move. Sparks flew from the end of his wand, igniting the feather.

"Don't worry," said George, coming over with a new feather as the boys looked on in horror. "It happens all the time."

"You try, Sev," said Hayden, as George watched. "You almost did it."

"Er, all right," said Al, nervous, as his uncle was present. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." He took care to flick his wand more clearly. The feather shuddered on the desk, then slowly but surely rose into the air. Al grinned, and the feather fell as his concentration broke. Nevertheless, George awarded Slytherin five points, and Al left the class one of the few people who had managed to levitate their feathers.

"What do we have after this?" asked Hayden at lunch. Luke had gone to sit with the other Ravenclaws. Al decided he liked Luke; he had been very friendly. Hayden, on the other hand, had refused to speak to him.

"Transfiguration." Al studied his friend, who had gone back to normal once Luke had left. "You don't seem to like Luke much."

"Of course not!" said Hayden. "He—" He realized who he was talking to. "It's nothing really. I just don't."

"It's because he's Muggle-born, isn't it?" asked Al quietly.

Hayden clamped his lips shut and did not answer for a while. Finally, he said, "Look. Harrods seems like a decent bloke, but my dad said never to trust a Muggle-born. There was this whole thing during the war about Muggle-borns stealing real wizards' power."

"Muggle-borns _are_ real wizards," said Al heatedly. "And that's utter bollocks."

"Yeah, I know _most _Muggle-borns are good. But what if the reason there are Squibs is because their power is—"

"That's ridiculous."

"That's what my dad says." Hayden sighed. "All right. I don't want to fight about this, so I'll be nice to Harrods, but you can't expect us to be best mates all of a sudden."

Al shrugged. "That's enough for me, at least for now." He glanced at his watch. "Let's go to Transfiguration. I heard it's terribly hard to find the classroom the first time."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** And there it is. Slightly shorter than the last one, but the next one is more exciting. I do believe I am starting a plot soon, coming up in Chapter Four.

Please review!


	3. The Flying Lesson

**Author's Note: **So here is Chapter Three, finally. Although I've had it done for a while, I've been hesitant to put it up, since Chapter Four is nowhere near done, and updates are only going to become slower after this point, as I am off to college/university in less than five days. However, the plot has finally become clear (or at least less murky) after several changes. Originally, Rodolphus Lestrange was going to feature quite a bit, as would Dudley, but then I decided to continue with this fic's theme of shades of gray rather than black and white. So no Death Eaters, at least not as main characters.

A reviewer wondered why Percy works at WWW. I wrote the first few chapters before JKR gave us the new info. I decided to change things around to fit this new information after the first interview posting, but after the second one, I decided not to, because it was just too annoying to go back and change an entire chapter for one little tidbit of insignificant semi-canon.

Thanks to those that reviewed!

* * *

**Chapter Three: The Flying Lesson**

Al soon learned that Charms was something that came easily to him, for his attempts in other classes were less successful. In Transfiguration with Professor Chang, no one managed to turn their matches into needles; in fact, Oliver Belby accidentally lit Stephen Montague's hair on fire when he mispronounced the incantation.

His other classes were no less disastrous, or so they seemed. Professor Slughorn took a liking to Al immediately, inviting him to a "Start of Term Get-Together" in his office that Sunday. Apparently, Al's grandmother, his father, and James were all very good at potion-making. But when Al and Hayden melted their first cauldron, it was with a distinctly disappointed air that his head of house bid him goodbye.

Herbology was with the Gryffindors, which meant that on top of teaching them how to care for magical plants, Neville had to keep the two houses from brawling. The plant Al, Rosie, and Hayden were supposed to be studying was terribly boring, and Hayden eventually fell asleep, which resulted in a point lost from Slytherin.

Hayden wasn't the only one to fall asleep during History of Magic. Al had been looking forward to the class, as he wanted to learn about wizarding history, but ten minutes within the class, he found himself abandoning his notes and doodling in the margins. Professor Binns droned on, unaware that his students had lost interest.

Defense Against the Dark Arts held some promise, but Al did not know if he was any good at it yet. Professor Jones, a cheerful witch with dark hair who Al remembered meeting once, merely introduced the course and told them what they would be learning. There were several magical creatures in cages around the room, and Al looked forward to learning more about them.

Astronomy, held at midnight on Wednesday, was something Al was competent with, at least. It wasn't difficult, marking down planetary positions and drawing stars on parchment. But then Thursday rolled around, and Al found himself in Double Potions with the Hufflepuffs, a second session of Transfiguration, and another lesson in Herbology. The only bright spot on the horizon was another session of Charms on Friday, and then tea with Hagrid and Rosie.

Al bid goodbye to Hayden after Charms and caught up to Rosie as she left the castle, striding toward the cabin near the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them both warmly and invited them inside.

A large boarhound bounded toward them, barking excitedly. Hagrid chuckled, then said, "This is Snuffles."

Snuffles lay at their feet as Hagrid got out a couple of chipped mugs and a kettle. "So, how has yer first week been?"

"Exhausting," said Al.

"Wonderful," said Rosie at the same time.

"Well, which one is it?" asked Hagrid, smiling.

"I did well in Charms, but I melted my cauldron in Potions and nearly fell asleep in History of Magic."

"Ah, well, everyone falls asleep in Binns's class, I heard," said Hagrid sagely. "But what did Slughorn think when yeh melted the cauldron?"

Al blushed. "He was kind of disappointed. Kept going on before it happened about how potion-making was in my blood, and then my cauldron melted."

"It's your own fault for not reading the books," said Rosie.

Hagrid turned toward her. "I bet yeh did well," he said. "Yer mother excelled in all of her subjects. One of the smartes' witches I know, Hermione." Rosie blushed. "I think yeh'll both be having yer first flying lessons soon."

"Yeah, tomorrow morning, with the Hufflepuffs," said Al. It was another thing he had been looking forward to as of lunchtime. He knew he was good at flying, at least.

"Ours is tomorrow afternoon," said Rosie, wringing her hands. "I'm no good at it; Dad's given up on trying to teach me."

* * *

The next morning, Al, Hayden, and the other Slytherins trooped out to the grounds right outside of the castle. The Hufflepuffs were already there, standing next to their dilapidated brooms. Oliver Wood was there as well, muttering to himself. As he passed, Al caught some of what he was saying. "Disgraceful, these brooms are…"

He chose a broom that didn't have too many twigs sticking out of its handle. Scorpius Malfoy was across from him, looking rather green.

"Right," said Wood, ceasing his pacing once everyone had found a broom. "I'm Wood; you can call me that, since I'm not used to being called 'Professor.' You've all got a broom, or at least something that resembles a broom after it has been utterly destroyed by the Whomping Willow" – several students snickered at this – "so we can begin the lesson. Everyone put your hands over your brooms and say 'Up.' You won't need to do this later, but it's easier to do so in the beginning."

"Up!"

Al's broom soared into his hand immediately. Hayden had to repeat his command, but it came up the second time. Across from them, however, Scorpius's broom remained stubbornly on the ground. There was a cry of pain as Neil McLaggen's broom came up and whacked him the face.

After about ten minutes, everyone had finally managed to get their brooms to cooperate, and Wood walked by each of them, correcting grips. "So _you're_ Harry's son," he said to Al before studying his grip. "Good. I wouldn't have expected less. Did your father teach you?" Al nodded. "I thought so."

He moved on to Hayden, then onto Scorpius, who was almost shaking. "Wet blanket," Hayden muttered under his breath, but Al felt bad for the Hufflepuff, who was clearly scared to fly. Wood spent at least a minute correcting his grip, leaving an even greener Scorpius behind him.

"All right," said Wood when he was finished. "Now, I want you all to mount your brooms." Al got on immediately, his heart thudding with excitement. True, this was a school broom, and they wouldn't be doing anything but hovering, but he was finally going to be able to fly. Across from him, Scorpius struggled to get on and finally managed to clamber on, although it was more like falling on the broom than mounting it.

"Good. On my whistle, I want you all to kick off on the ground and rise up until you are a few feet off the ground. Hover there until I tell you what to do next. Three… two… one…" There was a sharp whistle blast, and Al kicked off, feeling the wind in his hair for a moment before he had to stop and hover.

Hayden grinned at him and gave him the thumbs-up, but Al noticed Scorpius turning the color of whey as he looked down a mere five feet off the ground. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Scorpius nodded quickly, looking as if he would be sick.

"Okay. Now, to get down, just point your broom slightly downward and forward at the same time," said Wood. Al's broom descended smoothly, and he got off, grinning. Scorpius nearly fell off his broom. Hayden was smirking widely. "Mount your brooms again," continued Wood. "This time, we're going to rise further up. Watch me and go up as far as I go." He soared into the air, at least twenty feet up.

Al complied enthusiastically, wishing the pace of the lesson was faster. Hayden followed, and Scorpius nearly crashed into Al as he wobbled into place. "To move forward," said Wood, "lean slightly forward and steer in the direction you want to go in. I want you all to try moving slowly toward the person across from you."

Al smiled encouragingly at Scorpius, and the two of them moved toward each other at a snail's pace. Even at this speed, the Hufflepuff was struggling to stay on his broom. And then… Al realized it was going to happen a moment before it did… Scorpius slipped too far to the side just as he was about to pass Al. Al reached out, his clutching fingers barely missing the other boy's sleeve as Scorpius fell. For a moment, the horrified boys' eyes met, gray against green, and then there was a sickening crack as the Hufflepuff hit the ground.

Everyone froze. Al suddenly found it difficult to breathe. He could only stare down at Scorpius, who lay unmoving on the ground, his right arm and leg at unnatural angles. And then, "You pushed him!" gasped a Hufflepuff girl nearby.

"I saw it too!" said another Hufflepuff.

Wood was next to Scorpius immediately. "Get the headmaster immediately," he said to a shocked-looking Hayden, who descended and dashed off without a word. "And you get Madam Pomfrey," he told the girl who had accused Al of pushing Scorpius. "Potter, get down here," he barked.

Al didn't dare refuse. He opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, but all that came out was, "Is he all right?"

Wood ignored this question and instead looked past him. Flitwick ran toward them, glancing between Al and Scorpius. Hayden was behind him. He didn't look at Al. A moment later, the Hufflepuff girl arrived with Madam Pomfrey, who gasped and levitated Scorpius at once to bring him to the hospital wing.

As soon as they were gone, Flitwick turned toward Wood, his wizened, usually cheerful face very grim. "Emily, tell Professor Flitwick what you saw," said Wood to the girl.

The girl glanced at Al fearfully for a moment before saying, "He pushed her, Professor. Scorpius was struggling on his broom, and then I saw _him_" – she pointed at Al – "reach out and push him."

"Hmm." Flitwick's expression was unreadable as he studied Al. "This is very grave, Oliver. Tell your class to dismount, and then go get Horace and Hestia. Potter, follow me."

"Professor…" said Al as he followed him, but he was walking too fast even on his much shorter legs, and Al had to run to catch up. They traveled at this pace all the way up to the seventh floor, where they finally stopped, in front of a very ugly gargoyle.

"_Protego_," said Flitwick curtly. The gargoyle moved aside, allowing them to climb up the staircase behind it. There was a door at the end of the stairs, and Flitwick ushered him through it, into a circular room that was most likely his office. "Stay here, Potter," he said, herding him into a chair across from his desk. "Don't go anywhere." And then he was gone.

Al looked around, his heart thudding. When Flitwick came back, he would tell him… he hadn't pushed Scorpius; it was all a big mistake. But would he believe him? If he didn't, what would happen?

As if reading his thoughts, the portrait directly over the headmaster's desk spoke. "If your story, flimsy as it probably is, is not believed, you will be punished accordingly. Judging by the headmaster's behavior just now, I believe you are about to be expelled."

The portrait was of a man with greasy black hair and unfathomable black eyes. He wore black robes, which made him look somewhat like an overgrown bat. "Expelled?" repeated Al in a whisper.

"Now, now, Severus," said the portrait of a kindly-looking old man on his right. He wore half-moon glasses and robes decorated with stars and moons. "We don't know if he's innocent or guilty. Innocent until proven guilty, remember?"

Severus… that meant the man was Severus Snape. Al could not imagine a man less fitting of the description his parents had bestowed on him in front of James, Al, and Lily, yet here he was, Al's namesake and one of the bravest people Harry had known. "What's your name?" asked the old wizard.

"Albus, sir. Albus Potter."

The old man chuckled in delight. "Oh, how flattering. Severus, Harry's named his son after me."

Snape grunted noncommittally. "Are you Dumbledore?" Al said in wonder, temporarily distracted from his plight.

Dumbledore merely smiled and nodded. "And you are in Slytherin, I see."

"A Potter in Slytherin!" exclaimed a witch with her hair in a severe bun. Her portrait was on Dumbledore's other side.

"What?" Snape peered at Al's house badge. He smirked. "Your father was obviously displeased."

Al did not like him very much. "Actually," he replied coldly, "my dad was proud. Said that it was an honor to have a son in the house that produced one of the bravest men he knew."

Snape looked taken aback. He retreated from his frame suddenly, leaving behind a stretch of dark brown canvas. "Don't mind Severus," said Dumbledore. "He's a hard man to get along with, but I do believe you have unexpectedly flattered him. I wouldn't be surprised if he was shedding a few tears right now."

Al severely doubted it. A snort from the witch at Dumbledore's side confirmed she doubted it as well.

"Filius seems to be bothered, though. What is it that you're here for, my boy?"

And Al told him what had happened. Dumbledore listened patiently the entire time. "Sir, what if they don't believe me?"

"Then you shall be expelled," said Dumbledore sadly. "It is, unfortunately, not my decision to make anymore, but Filius's. Don't worry, though. If your story is true (which I think is the case), Professor Flitwick is a fair man."

The door opened, and Flitwick entered, followed by – Al's stomach did a flip when he saw them – Harry, Ginny, and the Malfoys. All of them looked grim, and his parents did not look at him as they sat down on either side of him. Above the desk, Snape sidled back into his portrait, an unmistakable look of anticipation on his large-nosed face.

There was a long silence, during which Al squirmed anxiously. Finally, he turned to his mother. "Mum, I didn't do it… please believe me."

Ginny's face was unreadable. "I don't know what to believe, Albus," she said. Al winced; she never used his full first name unless if she was really disappointed or angry. "Professor Flitwick says two people saw you do it."

The door opened again, revealing Wood, Slughorn, and Jones. "What's going on, Filius?" asked Slughorn, his eyes flicking over everyone in the room.

"I'm afraid that during Wood's flying session, Albus Potter pushed Scorpius Malfoy off his broom, or so it seems," said Flitwick shortly. "Two Hufflepuff students saw him do it – Emily Rowan and Jared Edgecombe."

Slughorn frowned. "And these two students…"

"… Were on relatively friendly terms with Mr. Potter before the incident. I doubt they are telling anything but what they truly saw."

Al felt the accusing eyes of Draco and Lavender Malfoy on him. "I didn't do it," he repeated, this time to his head of house and the headmaster. "Emily and Jared saw me reach out… but I was trying to help him."

"And is there anyone who can attest to that?"

"I—" A horrible thought suddenly rose in his mind. What if he _had_ accidentally pushed Scorpius? Maybe his hand had made contact… Maybe, when Scorpius woke up, he would say that Al had pushed him. They weren't friends – even if Al hadn't pushed him, wouldn't it be embarrassing for Scorpius to admit that he had fallen off his broom?

"Headmaster, I suggest you ask his _father_ to look into this," said Snape, sneering. "I heard a few years ago that he's an Auror. Then again, maybe he'll overlook his own son's murderous tendencies."

"I have not got murderous tendencies!" shouted Al, standing up and glaring at the portrait.

"Albus, _sit down_," gritted his father. Al was so shocked by his tone that he automatically obeyed. Harry seemed to be at the end of his fuse.

"Clearly, he has," said Snape, looking Al up and down. Al's jaw dropped. Snape was extremely nasty. He couldn't see why his parents had named him after such a person, no matter how brave he had been.

"Severus…" said Dumbledore wearily.

"No need to be so nasty, Snape," said a fat wizard with a pink face in another portrait. "The boy hasn't been proven guilty."

"I just have one question," said Lavender, and Al suddenly realized she was about to cry. "Why Scorpius?"

"Isn't it obvious?" sneered Snape.

"Severus!" said Dumbledore, frowning. "Control yourself."

"Clearly," said Draco, glaring at the Potters, "your son saw how uncomfortable my son is on a broom and decided to take advantage of that."

"Clearly," said Ginny, her voice wobbling slightly with emotion, "my son has not been proven guilty at this time." Al's heart soared; no matter how angry his parents were, they were still defending him. His heart sank again as he wondered how they would feel if Scorpius testified against him.

"Madam Pomfrey has been instructed to ask Mr. Malfoy what happened as soon as he is fully healed," said Flitwick tightly.

There was an uncomfortable silence after her announcement. Finally, Wood cleared his throat, and said, "How are things going, Harry?"

"Swimmingly," said Harry, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Al winced. His father could be very sarcastic at times, especially when he was extremely angry or stressed. Or in this case, both.

Wood colored. "I… that was awful. I shouldn't have asked."

Harry relaxed slightly. "No, I apologize, Wood. That was uncalled for, my response. It's just… the first time I've been in Hogwarts for over nineteen years…"

The door slammed open. To Al's surprise, Scorpius Malfoy stood there, panting and sweating heavily, leaning against the door frame for support. He had clearly run all the way from the hospital wing. Al had been under the impression that bones took a little longer to heal, and that it would be Madam Pomfrey bringing the verdict.

"He… didn't… push… me," gasped the Hufflepuff. "I… fell… off."

Everyone in the room stared. Lavender broke the silence, launching herself at her son and squeezing him tightly. "I was so worried…"

She led a limping Scorpius to a chair, then helped him sit. Draco's eyes were narrowed. "Fell off," he repeated coldly. "Tell me, Wood, what exactly were you doing?"

"Basic movement," replied Wood nervously. "I had them rise about twenty feet into the air – standard height for short-distance flight – and move slowly forward."

"You fell off moving forward," said Draco to his son. There was disgust in his tone. "We've been trying to teach you for years and you fell off doing the simplest, most basic thing."

Scorpius turned pink and stared down at his shoes.

Flitwick cleared her throat. "Very well. It seems the Hufflepuffs were mistaken, in which case, Mr. Potter, I must commend you for your attempt." She gave him a small smile. Ginny put her hand on Al's shoulder as they stood. Draco was still glaring daggers at his son.

"Draco…" said Lavender softly, trying to calm her husband, who was clearly incensed at his son's incompetence in flying.

"I cannot believe you _fell off your broom_," said Draco. Scorpius's head, if possible, hung even lower.

"Don't say that, Malfoy," said Harry. "Flying is probably his weak point; he probably excels in another area." None of them voiced the thought that was going through all of their minds: _Most people didn't fall off their broom just flying forward_.

"I do believe it is lunch time," said Slughorn jovially, now that the affair was over. He, Wood, and Jones left. Al followed his parents out as soon as they had bid the portraits and Flitwick goodbye.

As soon as they were in the corridor, Ginny pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry I doubted you, darling. I should have known you would never do such a thing… It was just – there were two Hufflepuffs who saw you, and everyone seemed so convinced. Your father was angry with me the entire time; he had no doubt at all that you were innocent."

"It's okay, Mum," said Al, his voice slightly muffled. "I thought for a moment that I did it too."

Newly content, he walked with his parents down the many flights of stairs. As they approached the Great Hall, Harry said lightly, "James will be angry if he finds out we were here and didn't drop in for a visit."

So Albus, beaming, led his parents into the Great Hall. Everyone quieted upon their entrance, staring. "Mum? Dad?" said James, standing up and coming toward them. "What are you doing here?" The low rumble of conversation began again, though people's glances kept shooting their way.

"There was a misunderstanding," said Ginny. "And we were called in. How are you, darling? Did you and Al share the sweets I sent?"

"James ate most of it before I even saw it," answered Al bitterly.

"Hello, Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny," said Victoire, Lucy at her heels.

Rosie came into the Great Hall with a group of friends Al didn't know. She stopped short when she saw her aunt and uncle. "Is something wrong?" she asked, panicked.

Harry shook his head. "All is well," he said with a smile. "We just got called here. It appears Al's more trouble than he's worth." He put an arm around his son.

"Why? What did he do?"

"I fell off my broom, and it looked like he pushed me," said a quiet voice behind Al. He turned. Scorpius was walking toward them, his parents behind him. "Thanks," he said simply when he reached the group. "For trying to help, I mean."

"No, thank _you_," said Al with a grin. "I mean, you could have said I had pushed you instead of admitting you'd fallen off."

"Yes, well, you would be expelled if I had." Scorpius returned his grin hesitantly, and it lit up his face. Al realized he had never seen the Hufflepuff smile before. The other boy offered his hand, and Al took it, wringing it enthusiastically.

"Al, why don't you introduce us to your friends in your letters? Hayden and Luke?" suggested Ginny when they finally let go.

"Yeah. All right," said Al. He could see Luke craning his neck at the Ravenclaw table and Hayden pretending not to be curious but looking at them every other second. "I'll see you later, Scorpius."

"See you," said Scorpius.

Harry had told Al many times the story in which he and Ron saved Hermione from the troll during their first year. According to Harry, Hermione had been terribly annoying, and Ron especially had been annoyed by her presence. Yet after the incident with the troll, Hermione had become their friend, because, said his father, you couldn't go through an experience like that and not become friends.

Al had never really understood how things like that could change so suddenly, yet now, he realized, the same thing had happened to him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So now we know why Scorpius is a Hufflepuff.

The next update is not likely to be very soon, as I am leaving in a matter of days, and I doubt I will be able to finish a chapter amidst all the activities that will no doubt be going on. So hang in there, and please review!


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